end of the season: good to be on the upside

At the stroke of the final out, we received complimentary wings from the kitchen. I hoisted a celebratory drumstick to the Sox, and was selfishly thankful that it was the second world series sweep in four years, because (162+3+7+4 games, plus countless beers, pizzas, popcorns, peanuts, trail mixes, burritos, etc later) I was pooped.
This morning, my first stop on the Internet was to revel in the coverage, saturated with glorious champagne-drenched images. My second stop: a search for the cleansing diet. To my surprise, I’m already on it. Except for all the bar food.

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